


Constellations

by Evie_G



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Constellations, F/M, Mirrors, NSFW, Painting, Pre Trespasser, Romance, Solas Smut Saturday, second chapter sexy times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-18
Updated: 2015-10-18
Packaged: 2018-04-25 15:14:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4965838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evie_G/pseuds/Evie_G
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Solas enjoys painting, and the Inquisitor is his favourite canvas</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Solas?”

“Hmm?” He mumbles, shifting in his sleep.

“Solas?”

His eyes blink open, pupils widening so much they turn his blue irises black in the dark of the room. “Is something wrong, vhenan?”

Mae is half-sitting, propped on her elbows with the blankets gathered around her waist. The light colouring of her vallaslin tracing a line from her full lower lip down the hollow of her throat and below the neckline of her nightshirt. She looks as though she hasn’t been asleep, despite the lateness of the hour. It wasn’t unusual; she had told him once that she saw the faces of their fallen soldiers right before sleep descended upon her.

“Don’t you miss the stars?” She asks with a wistful sigh, her expression thoughtful and eyes so bright that they’re almost reflective in the gloom.

Solas smiles and tucks a stray curl behind her pointed ear, lingering slightly as he runs his finger down the length of it. She shivers under his touch, a reaction he can’t ever get enough of. “They haven’t gone anywhere, vhenan.”

He feels, rather than sees, her roll her eyes at him. He suspects that she is wrinkling her nose, too. “No, but they’re not the same. They are different here; in different places, different colours.” She takes a deep breath, tucking her cold toes between his calves. “When my magic came in, Keeper Deshanna used to sit with me outside when I was too scared to dream. We’d count the stars until I fell asleep, making up silly stories about the constellations.” Mae slides towards Solas until her head rests in the crook of his shoulder. His arms wrap around her slender frame, pulling her close enough for her hair to tickle his nose as he breathes her in. She smells of honeysuckle and linen and that lingering trace of static electricity.

He thinks for a moment before whispering, “What is your favourite constellation?” into her golden hair, his lips punctuating the question with a light kiss. The strands are silk against his mouth.

He feels Mae smile against him before she speaks, lips moving against his collarbone. “Fenrir was always my favourite and I had so many stories about the white wolf. The best one was about how Fenrir and Fen'Harel were one and the same. He’d somehow transformed himself into stars to stop hunters finding him after he locked the Gods away. He would watch over us and maybe play some tricks on the mean children in my Clan. Deshanna didn’t always approve but she encouraged my imagination, at least until I became First…”

She sighs against him, her warm breath spreading over his chest. Slowly, Solas disentangles her warm body from his, smiling at the upset pout that plumps her lips. “Wait here,” he says as he pulls on his leggings then pads down the stairs.

“Hurry up, it’s cold here without you,” Mae calls after him, shuffling into the warm space his body has left.

The great hall is empty, the cold of stones numbing his toes. Solas is as quick as he can be while trying not to wake the castle, eager to return to the warmth and comfort and love of Mae’s room.

When he returns, Solas finds Mae on his side of the bed, her eyes grazing the pages of a well worn book as her hand cradles a small flame. His lips twitch as she struggles to turn the page of the book without setting the room aflame.

“It’s almost as though I can hear your silent laughter,” she says without looking at him, thumb flicking the parchment unsuccessfully. “Get over here and hold one of these, would you please?”

“That won’t be necessary, vhenan.”

Mae finally gives up on multitasking and drops the book into her lap with a huff of frustration. She looks over at Solas and chuckles at the collection of materials bundled in his arms. “What are you doing?” she asks, biting her lips to stop another giggle escaping from them.

He feels her reading him just as well as she has read the book in her lap. His dark eyes fix on hers, sending a chill down her spine. “Reuniting you with your stars,” he says in a husky voice. His breath catches as he sees her eyes widen with excitement.

Solas gently removes her nightshirt and guides her onto her front, ignoring her mewling protests and grasping hands. His weight rests on the backs of her thighs, pinning her lower half as gently as he can manage. He piles her endless curls at the top of her head, lamenting as she shakes them free with a soft laugh.

“Mae, keep still ma sa’lath,” he pleads, knowing that if she wriggles much more then his idea will be thrown out of the window along with their remaining clothes.

He gently stokes the canvas of her back, tracing the crevices and freckles while mapping out his image. He is an artist surveying his medium. He is a lover memorising his beloved.

Her lower back flinches against the cold of the brush and she squirms away. “Hmm,” she mumbles into the pillow. “That tickles.”

Solas’ hand freezes, but a slight tremor flutters his fingertips. The familiar scent of chalk and lime fills the room as he begins again, her muscles taught as she tries to keep still. He forces his hands to be gentle, stops them from digging into her flesh so he can hold on to her forever. The only sounds are her muffled breaths and the occasional swish of water as he works through the hues of the scene.

It takes longer than he thought it would, and he realises that this is the longest she has ever gone without moving her hands. They were constantly twirling her staff, picking fluff off fabric, gesturing wildly was she spoke. Her fingers even twitched in her sleep. He loved those hands, especially in the dark when the anchor trailed light in her wake, especially when he held them in his own and marvelled at how small they were, especially when they were on _him_.

“Mae?” he whispers close to her ear. She stirs sleepily, eyes adjusting to the pre-dawn light seeping into the room.

“I fell asleep?” she asks, sitting up as he stands stretching his aching muscles. Solas nods, and gestures towards the gaudy Orlesian mirror in the corner of the room; one of several pieces she has collected from the corners of Thedas. Mae grins and yawns, stumbling over the blankets in her heavy-eyed haste. She turns this way and that, holding her hair up for an unobstructed view. She is silent as Solas wrings his hands.

The night sky is there, dark black and blue with the brilliant crystalline constellation of Fenrir arching across her back. There are thousands of stars painted over her freckles, the pinks and greens of them bright against their stormy backdrop. And as she moves, so does the sky, twisting and rolling like thunder. The dimples in her back play host to galaxies. Solas hasn’t painted with such detail for a thousand years, and he doesn’t know if this masterpiece was made because of his work or because it’s her. He suspects the latter, for she is a supernova.

“Vhenan?” he says, forcing his voice to sound even as he awaits her verdict.

Her eyes meet his in the reflection of the mirror, they are large and misty, her lips trembling. “Solas,” she says with a heavy breath. “I can’t believe–I don’t–”

He silences her with a kiss, his hands turning her head to meet him. His fingers trace her neck, along her shoulders and down her arms to entwine with her fingers. His tongue slides between her parted lips, humming his contentment as she moans into him.

In that moment, he wishes he really could turn himself into stars, just so he can watch over her forever.


	2. Chapter 2

Mae breaks the kiss first.

She molds her body to his, arching against him bringing Solas crashing back to Thedas. The subtle movement presses her curves into him, the action slow and teasing. He slides his hands up the silken skin of her legs and rests them on her hips, pulling her closer still. The warmth of her flesh against him, the feel of her skin moving over his. She is both real and ethereal; a constant concept he cannot define.

He turns her to face the mirror and she struggles to stifle a small huff of laughter. Her smile is wide, her eyes bright and questioning. But she is deliciously bare and open to him in the reflection and he groans at the sight, a wanton noise that rips from his throat. She is, with all certainty, the only masterpiece here.

He is greedy. He wants all of her. He wants to drink her in, wants to watch her fall apart for him. And she knows it. He sees her watching him, her gaze following the line of his eyes as they memorize every inch of her. The small scar on her thigh, skin light and puckered. The freckles on her knees that dance when she does. The jagged, bitten fingernails of those wandering hands. Her eyes are darkened with desire, a reflection of his own.

Mae takes his hand and places it upon her breast, watching in the mirror as he cups the small handful. He squeezes gently, then strokes her sensitive nipple with deft fingers. He bites and licks at her exposed neck, feeling her shiver as her mouth falls open into a silent 'o', her tongue flicking against her lower lip. She pushes against him, grinding against him. Solas’ fingers dig into her soft skin as he pushes back.

Her eyes follow him still, watching as his hands move over her, watching as she arches into his touch. Watching as he parts her legs and ghosts her curls with the barest of touches. He doesn’t know if her moan is from his fingers or the sight of him touching her. But as her hips buck forward in silent demand, he obliges her need.

He starts slow, one finger circling her with feather light touches. He sees the pleasure wash over her, delighting in the way her muscles slacken against him ever so slightly. Here, like this, is where she can finally relax. They make no demands of each other. They know this is real.

Mae’s eyes become heavy, her gaze fixed on the way his finger moves against her. He knows that she wants to close them, wants to fling her head back, wants to focus of the feelings. But she is restraining herself, fascinated as she is by the sight in front of her. Solas bites her earlobe and watches when her gasp of surprise turns into a lustful moan as he slips a finger inside. She is wet and hot and tight and the delicious smell of her fills the room. He teases her ear with this tongue, watching as she writhes against him. He is unable to control his hips as they seek the sweet solace of friction.

Her hand slides between them, gripping him through his leggings, rubbing down the length of him. He hums his contentment as he slides a second finger inside her. But her eyes aren’t watching his hands anymore; they’re watching his face. He sees his desire in the reflection, the licentious look that consumes his face as she cups him. And her smile, that sinful smile as she sees what she is doing to him. He quickens his pace, chuckling as that smile fades into a frantic need.

Both of his hands are on her sex. Two fingers thrusting inside, feeling her soft and tight around him as the other hand hurries over her clit. He is racing her towards the point of no return, desperate to watch her implode. Her breathing is ragged, her skin hot and slick. He sees her chest flush pink and her nipples darken before it hits. The quaking ripples around his hands as she cries out. The sputtering flash of his magic that consumes her left hand. Her muscles tremble, her knees collapse.

Solas holds her up as the tremors course through her. She licks her juices from his hands, a greedy grin lighting her face.

She knows he is not finished with her. He nearly falls in the haste to remove his leggings.

Mae grips the golden frame for support as he leans her forward, running his hand down her painted back. She waits in anticipation, tongue wetting her lips and eyes demanding as he catches them in the reflection. Solas enters her swiftly, then stills. He is lost in the feel of her. Lost in the heat and the velvet and the very feeling that is so lusciously _her_. She is his anchor. She is real.

She is impatient. She moves for him, shallow thrusts back, calves trembling from the angle, from tiptoeing. Their eyes never waiver. He grabs her hips, his fingers digging and bruising as he moves into her. Hard. And harder still. He sees the sway of her breasts, her teeth biting her lip, her fingers touching herself. He hears the soft whimpers, the low moans that she struggles to contain. He hears the slap of their flesh as they move together.

Solas leans into her, swatting her hands away and replacing them with his own. Her nipple taught between his fingertips, her clit swollen beneath his hand. His chest is flush against her back, pendant digging painfully as his hips slam against her. And again. And again. And again. Until there is nothing. Nothing but her, for she is his universe.

When they part, his chest is smeared with the stars he’d painted on her. “We ruined your painting,” she says, lazy fingers tracing the smudged paint lines and the red nicks his pendant left.

He kisses her hair, the golden curls darkened with sweat. “No vhenan, we made it all the better.”

He thinks that perhaps she should be the one to turn into stars, so she can watch over him instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will go and crawl into a hole now...

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/493144227921492297/)
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr [here](http://one-evie-g.tumblr.com), come say hi!


End file.
